A Song of Desert Gold
by A Diamond in the Rough
Summary: When Glorfindel is wounded while on patrol, he is taken to safety by a Haradrim general. While Glorfindel recovers, a priestess called Payesha becomes closest friend. After spending a year in Harad, Glorfindel is forced to choose between the land of his birth and the realm he has come to love...Will the capture of his heart make the decision simpler for the seneschal of Rivendell?
1. A Desert Attack

A Song of Desert Gold

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><p>Hey guys! Long time no see, huh? I am working on the sequel for Ash Nazg, but I honestly couldn't turn this plot bunny down. It's the story of how Glorfindel came to Harad and became the father of Airoth. If you're new to my work I suggest you read Ash Nazg of Sauron, Huidhenel of Middle Earth first. However, this can be read independently. If you have read it, note that the Anjana mentioned here is not Randiriel from Ash Nazg. The name is, in my mind, a very common Haradic one and especially common amongst the warrior clans. Though this Anjana is a major character, she isn't Randiriel, and she isn't Glorfindel's love interest either.<p>

Happy reading! And don't forget to review!

~Lily 3

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><p><em>The lord of Rivendell was sitting alone in his chambers, looking out on the starry night of Rivendell. A thousand thoughts rushed through his mind; thoughts of Arwen, who had returned from the Havens, vowing that her love for Aragorn would not allow her to cross to Valinor, and that if she did, all would be lost.<em>

_"You don't understand, Father," she had cried, as he had retired to his rooms. "I know you will never understand. There are some things more important than the lives of the ones you love-their love, and their happiness is more important than anything. I would rather be happy for a day than spend an eternity in misery. Why don't you see?"_

_He did._

_Getting up, he crossed to the door and strode out. He paused by the door of Arwen's room, half-fearful, half sorrowing; but he heard nothing from behind it except for her quiet, slow breathing. Elrond heaved a sigh which sounded like the rustle of a thousand autumn leaves upon the forest floor. As he stood near the entrance to the main courtyard, something golden caught his eye. Upon drawing closer, he saw that it was none other than Glorfindel._

_"What keeps you awake at this late hour?" asked Elrond, sitting on the bench opposite Glorfindel's._

_"Remembering," came the vague reply._

_"What?" asked Elrond._

_"My fifteen-year-absence," said Glorfindel. "I believe I lived more during those fifteen years than I ever lived in the ages that came before."_

_"Why do you say that?" asked Elrond, puzzled. "You never even breathed a word of where you were. I recall that one day the company returned without you...we all thought you were dead."_

_"I never told you what had happened, because to speak of what befell me...It would have destroyed me, my friend," said Glorfindel, brushing back a stray lock of golden hair._

_"Where were you?"_

_"I remained in Harad after I was wounded there. I was struck in the head by an orkish club and taken to safety by a Haradrim general."_

_The Lord of Rivendell was stupefied._

_"What in the name of Aman were you doing in Harad? How did the Haradrim not kill you on sight? They have long had a reputation as a fierce and bloodthirsty people."_

_"So has thought the rest of Middle-Earth...and for far too long." The sentence was little more than a longing whisper._

_"Then, what is the truth?"_

_"You heard the message of the Lady Galadriel, did you not?"_

_"No, when did it arrive?"_

_"Shortly before the Lady Arwen returned. Only yesterday."_

_"What did it say?"_

_"Haeronwen has been found, Elrond."_

_Elrond paused for a moment, staring at Glorfindel with slightly parted lips, trying to grope in his memory for the face that had belonged to that name. Haeronwen was not a Sindarin name; whoever she was, she was an elf of Mirkwood or Lorien, or perhaps the lost Avari-the dark elves._

_"Who?"_

_"The last daughter of Thranduil and Eleniel. The child who was thought to have been killed by orcs."_

_Elrond's jaw dropped. "Vande-Vanya? The Beautiful Maiden?"_

_"Yes. She had been kidnapped, not killed; as a child she was sold to a slave trader and then to a man in Rhun. At his death, she fled Rhun and ended up in Harad, where she became a general of war. Later, she was struck with fever in a battle and her horse bore her to Lorien; there, she met Haldir and fell in love with him. They were married some months past."_

_"Haldir, who swore he would never marry," said Elrond with a laugh._

_"Yes."_

_"But what has this to do with your time in Harad?"_

_"Everything," said Glorfindel quietly. Then he looked up at Elrond. "Like Haldir, I too took a Haradrim bride."_

_"You...you married a human woman?"_

_"Yes." Glorfindel rose and began to pace. Then he stopped suddenly and looked at Elrond. "That is why I have never tried to persuade Arwen to let go of her love for Aragorn. You have been vexed, you have been confused, but you did not know that I, too, surrendered my immortality." He ran a hand over his arm, as if he were cold. "You never realized that there were things more important than life. Even now, you still believe that Arwen's release of life is a sacrifice; no, it is not. _

_"The only sacrifice she is expected to make is to leave him. Elrond, you do not understand that to obey you would give her worse pain. Valinor does not erase all woes, my friend; it merely assuages, calms, yet the pains of true love can never be eased. Arwen has no choice but to become a mortal woman; if she does not, it will kill her. I, too, was mortal for many years, though my separation from my wife seems to have given my long years back to me."_

_"You..." No more words could come from the Lord of Rivendell._

_"I did," said Glorfindel, a soft smile lifting his face. "Her name was Payesha; the most beautiful woman ever to walk this world. And no, I do not mean it literally, for though she was comely she could not hold a candle to many of the others. But her kindness, her intelligence, her spirit, and the light she bore in her eyes...they set her above all other women."_

~From _Ash Nazg of Sauron, Huidhenel of Middle Earth_

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><p>"Glorfindel."<p>

"Elladan."

"Glorfindel."

"Elrohir."

"Glorfindel."

"Oh, for Valar's sake!" he cried out, turning and glaring at the two identical elves, who were muffling their laughter in their sleeves. "Cease your prattle for a while. I want to think."

"How can you think when we two are about?" asked Elladan, spurring his horse onward. Glorfindel sighed. More often than not, he spent most of his time around the mischievous twins, whose especial pride was their ability to heckle him and get away with it. When the two were with their father or sister, their grave eyes and smooth motions could have fooled even the sharpest elf into thinking they were no different from the rest; however, Glorfindel had known them since they were identical babes in their mother's arms. He had learned, over the years, that he was the only one whom Elladan and Elrohir bothered in such a way.

"That's exactly it," he said, exasperated. "You two may think you know Middle-Earth like the backs of your polished hands, but neither of you have ever been this far South, and I would thank you to hold your tongues."

"That, dear friend," said Lindir, spurring his horse forward, "would be wonderful. Lord Elrond was too gentle with the both of you," he said, glaring at the twins. "You two never had a good whipping, even when you needed it."

"Trust me," growled Glorfindel, flicking the reins. "I've whipped the two more often than I remember."

"I still don't understand why we had to come," said Elrohir.

"To harass Glorfindel, of course," answered his brother.

Glorfindel gritted his teeth. "We have come here because there was word of an infestation of orcs. As a larger party would be too easy to see, only four of us are coming this far, with a hunddred-strong force a little way behind. You are here because you were tired of the camp and needed some entertainment."

He exhaled in relief when the twins did not reply; knowing them as he did, the very fact that they kept silent should have alerted him to the fact that something was amiss. When Elrohir quietly gasped, he swung his horse around and shouted to Lindir, who was ten paces ahead.

"Draw your bow!"

A black, crawling mass had appeared over the crest of a hill slightly to the east. It was thickening by the moment; Glorfindel's eyes had already gauged the gap left between the orcs and the thorny thickets, and realized with a sinking feeling that there was no way that they could break through. Elrohir and Elladan had already nocked arrows and sent them flying to the east, and it took only a moment for the other two to follow suit.

To Glorfindel, it seemed that only a second had passed before they were surrounded by orcs and his three companions were lost to view. He was soon covered in black orc blood, swinging his head this way and that in a desperate attempt to catch sight of Lindir or the twins. As he beheaded an orc, the strange feeling came upon him that the four of them and the orcs were not the only beings there in the dusty hills. He turned, narrowly dodging an iron mace, and glimpsed a line of glimmering silver at the mouth of the valley. Glorfindel exhaled in relief, thinking that it was the elves whom they had left behind in the camps. The thought entered his head that they must have proceeded extremely quietly to sneak around three or four hills completely unnoticed, but then he realized that the faces of these people were dark, burned brown by the sun. The little army was flanked by beasts with immense tusks, rather like elephants. These creatures, however, appeared to be far older and far larger than any elephant could ever be.

A sense of awe stole into his veins. The Haradrim were truly a force to behold, and in that instant, Glorfindel would not have cared whether they sided with the orcs or not, even if he had known them to be hard and cruel of heart. The Haradrim were headed by a slender figure hair gleaming so darkly in the sun that Glorfindel wondered if it was dyed. The woman's eyelids were painted black, and her skin was slightly lighter than that of her fellows. She held a single lance in one hand, and with a strangely fluid movement, she swept it down and the Haradrim plunged into the valley and toward the skirmish below the hills.

His moment of distraction cost him dearly, for as he stood looking at the woman atop the horse, an orc crept up behind him and struck the back of his head with a wooden club.

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><p>The woman sat atop a delicately built horse, looking about her. All around the valley, bodies of orcs lay scattered over the sands, with arrows fletched with golden, blue and green feathers piercing their bodies. Three of the four elves had fled, yet one remained. When she had first passed him, she had thought she was dead; a gaping wound in his head poured blood onto his golden hair. However, when she had stooped to examine it, she had seen that though he had probably suffered a concussion, the wound itself had not penetrated the bone, and he was still breathing. She had no doubt that he could recover; after all, the Haradrim possessed medicine which could rival even the elves. So she had given the order that he be placed upon one of the mumakil and carried back to Kalsini, the capital of Harad.<p>

"My lady Anjana," said a young man who had come up behind her. "Our scouts have sent word." A plump grey dove sat on his shoulder, cooing softly. Tied to its leg was a tiny scroll, such as those the Haradrim used to send messages over long distances when a scout could not return quickly enough.

Anjana plucked the dove from the man's shoulder. "A camp of elves is in the area; however, a nine-thousand strong band of orcs lie between you and them. Your wounded elf will not be able to rejoin his people for a time."

"It's just as well that we sent him on to Kalsini, then," she said with a sigh. "Come on. No one has fallen, and we have an elf separated from his people. Come, Akhat."

The two spurred their slender ponies forward and disappeared into the dust.

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><p>Glorfindel awoke in darkness.<p>

He realized, within an instant after opening his eyes, that his head was ringing with an excruciating pain that seemed to originate from the back of his head. In the faint moonlight, he could discern gleaming marble walls, and the shimmer of gold from the ceiling. He sat up gingerly, noting that his head had been expertly bandaged, with some numbing herb packed over his flesh. As his eyes adjusted to the soft glow issuing from the window, he noticed that the room was airy with a high, arched door.

Suddenly, weariness stumbled over him like a tide. As a wave of pain washed through his skull anew, he laid down his head and surrendered once more to sleep.


	2. Payesha

The sun dawned amid a glory of bright red, as was often the case in Harad. As Anjana had often told her young apprentice, Payesha, Harad was heavy with the blood its people had spilled to protect its borders from the rest of the world. Though Harad had largely gone unnoticed by men, elves, and dwarves (and orcs, as well) it was quite close to one nation, a country called Rhun. What most of Aksha (called Middle-Eath by most of the other free peoples) considered to be Harad was actually three distinct nations; Khand, Rhun, and Harad. Because all three nations wrapped around the east and south of the Rhovanion and Mordor, few people ever went that way. The reputation of the Haradrim as fierce and warlike _was _merited. Even Payesha, who had been indignant when she heard how Harad was looked upon, could not deny it. Not even fact that most of that reputation came from Rhun left the Haradrim any doubt to believe that they were any gentler than they truly were.

Another truth that had very much fallen below widespread knowledge was the beauty of the Haradrim. It was rumored that the Haradic longevity (which was seventy years longer than that of most mortal men) as well as the characteristic delicate features could all be traced back to the elves; yet not even the most learned scribe could be sure when or even if such an intermingling of mortal and elven blood had occurred. It was the face of Payesha that had convince Anjana that the essence of the Firstborn must run within Haradrim veins.

Payesha Sainath was a young healer, and exhibited all the beauty of her forebears. She was lovely even among Haradrim women, with flowing curves, large pitch-colored eyes, a wealth of gleaming raven hair, a slender neck, and a rugged brow which cast a look of masculine strength about her face. Her face was, as usual, veiled with a thin piece of tightly woven fabric to keep out the dust, which crept into the rooms of Kalsini even by night. Yet even the cloth left no doubt that Payesha was, indeed, beautiful.

That morning, Payesha was wakened by her mistress tapping gently at her door. Payesha had sprung from her bed, rushed across the cold marble floor, and lifted the latch to admit Anjana (who was her teacher as well as her liege).

Anjana laughed softly to see her apprentice in such a hurry. She was already garbed for the day, dressed in a fluid silver armor with her weapons slung across her back. All that remained to be put on her was her general's paint. As Anjana's disciple, it was Payesha's duty to open the little glass jars of smooth black powder, mix their contents with water, and paint Anjana's face. It was a job that enthralled Payesha, because Anjana's decoration was always elaborate. As captain of the guard, Anjana would have stark black eyebrows, black eyelids, black vines weaving around her round, high cheekbones, and, lastly, full black lips. Unlike most of the female warriors, Anjana had no qualms about revealing the outlines of her hips, bosom, and waist through her armor, even on the battlefield. When Payesha had asked her why, Anjana had merely replied that the very fact that she was a woman would let down her enemy's guard.

"You're up early today, my lady," said Payesha, walking briskly over to her cupboard for fresh pots of kohl powder. She plucked three from a shelf and emptied the dusty black paint into a clay bowl, to which she added a dash of water from the slender jug beside the bed. As Payesha stirred the mixture, Anjana tied her long hair into a bun.

"I am," she said, allowing no sign of weariness to seep past the practiced exterior which every general unconsciously adopted after a few years of command. "We had some trouble with orcs near the northwestern border yesterday, and my legion and I are returning to see that all is still well. As it happens, Payesha, I have a job for you to do today while I am not here. In fact, it will be your work for some time."

"What is it?" asked Payesha, cleaning a little horsehair brush. Noting her movements, Anjana closed her eyes expectantly, and Payesha began applying gleaming paint to the lowered lids.

"Yesterday, after the orcs were taken care of, I found an elf at the brink of death. Apparently, he'd been separated from his party before the battle; there were only three others with him, and I doubt four elves would ride this far south alone. You need higher training in your healing, and it will be both to his benefit and yours that you complete this section of your studies with the elf."

Payesha nodded, a concerned look entering her dark eyes. "I saw the elf brought in yesterday. Will he live, my Lady?"

"His skull has been cracked, but not badly enough to touch the brain beneath. Beyond that, I doubt there can be much the matter with him but shock. Elves are a hardy people, and he shall recover within time."

"Pardon my boldness, my Lady, but if he will recover within time and you know so, why have you assigned me to his care? Shouldn't I be looking after someone who is more badly wounded than that?"

"You need instruction in the care of a person, as in looking after the smaller things and making them comfortable," Anjana reminded her. "Do you remember what happened last week? You stitched up the gouge in Garaam's leg and gave him such a strong pain cordial the next day that it knocked him out for three hours. I've rather neglected your education in that way, although I know you can disinfect any wound and set any shattered bone."

Payesha blushed violently, and almost ruined the coloring on Anjana's eyebrows. "There, my lady, I'm done."

Anjana cast a critical look at her reflection in the mirror and then nodded. "Well done, Payesha. Go get your breakfast and then go to the infirmary to see to the elf. If he is conscious, try not to alarm him. He _should _be able to understand Westron, and one can never be sure what Elven language one of the Firstborn speaks, anyway."

"The blonde ones generally come from The Valley of Singing Gold and speak Quenya. I asked the loremaster once," Payesha offered.

"No matter, he'll be able to understand you if you've been properly studying your Westron," said Anjana, getting up and hoisting her bow. "I shall see you in the evening, Payesha, and ask you how it goes."

With a ripple of her shining silver cloak, Anjana left the room. Payesha lifted her green day-dress from her cupboard and changed quickly before hurrying to the dining hall. A chorus of whistles greeted her as she reached the foot of the stares leading into the hall, and she blushed again. Payesha was one of the most sought-after young women in northern Harad, and had suitors in droves since she was sixteen. However, she walked past the gang of boys with her head held high, and went to the girls' table, where she greeted her two friends, Ninitha and Khala.

"What took you so long?" asked Ninitha, pushing a bowl of coconut milk toward Payesha, along with a plate of shredded mutton.

"Anjana wanted her paint done early today," said Payesha. Both Ninitha and Khala were lady's maids, and understood the importance of getting paint done right. They nodded and then returned their attention to their food.

"What are you going to do today, Yesha?" asked Khala. "Our ladies have given us the day off, and we know the squadron's left. Will you come with us to the pools? We haven't had a good swimming day for as long as I can remember."

"Anjana left me work to do while she's out," said Payesha, feeling the loss of her day off. "Yesterday's legion got in a sick elf from the border, and I've got to look after him."

"After last week's fiasco?" said Ninitha. "You could have easily killed Garaam with that sleeping draught."

Payesha's face flamed scarlet for a third time, and she attacked her meat with a vengeance. Ninitha chortled. Khala's lips went white.

"It isn't funny," she hissed, burying her nose in her bowl of milk. Payesha cast her an apologetic glance; she had forgotten how taken Khala was with the strong, quiet Garaam with his kind eyes and uproarious laughter.

"I'll see you two at dinner," she said, getting up. "I'm off."

"Oy, Yesha!" came Ninitha's shout. Payesha turned.

"What is it, Nini?"

"I've heard that elves are devilishly handsome. Try not to break the fellow's heart."

Payesha rolled her eyes, passed the group of boys (all of whom stared at her as she passed by) and went toward the infirmary.

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><p>Glorfindel had been pleasantly surprised to find it light when he awoke.<p>

_At least I know I've not died and gone to the halls of Mandos, _he thought. _This place is easily lovely enough to be so, but too...dry. _It took him a few moments to realize where he had been when he was injured; he had been at the border or Harad, and someone must have found him. He was in a room of luxury; gold shone in the walls and it seemed that the very building he was in was made of marble.

The pain in his head, though very much present, was far more dull than it had been when he had woken in the night. He settled himself back against his pillows, finding that closing his eyes offered a nearly instant relief. He toyed with the idea of going to sleep again, and regretfully decided that he should at least try to get up and have a look out of the window, which admitted a warm and pleasant breeze. When he looked more closely, he saw that the window was screened by some sort of tight, clear cloth; to keep out the sand, presumably.

Presently, he heard a gentle knock at his door. He glanced toward his dagger, which was lying close at hand on a strange little wooden table that looked as if it might be able to fold up under too much weight. After deciding that he likely had no need of it (his life _had _been saved, after all) he called, "Come in."

The girl that entered was, undeniably, a Haradrim. She had a gleaming copper skin, long black hair, and a striking, high-boned face which boasted an overhanging brow and full scarlet mouth. Her face was veiled with a light cloth which was much the same as the fabric that shaded the windows.

"Ah, you're awake," she said in heavily accented Westron, setting down her tray on the precarious little table. Glorfindel eyed it for a moment, expecting it to collapse. When it didn't, he turned his attention back to the girl, who seemed to be uncertain as to whether or not he had understood her words.

"Where am I?" he asked. "And what happened to me?" He winced at how..._mortal...and uncultured..._his words sounded, but he dismissed it. Finding out where he was and what exactly had happened to him was far more important than trivial courtesy. The girl smiled, relieved at finding herself understood.

"You're in Kalsini, the capital of Harad," said the girl, taking the lid off a pot of some sort of savory-smelling soup. "I'm not exactly sure what happened, but according to my mistress, your skull is cracked, though not very badly. It's more of a flesh wound. I expect your head was hit by an orc's club or something similar."

"My companions!" he cried, remembering Lindir and the twins. "Where are they? Have they fallen?"

"So far as I know, you were the only elf found there. My mistress mentioned that there were three others, but she did not say they were killed or captured."

Glorfindel inclined his head, relieved. "What is your name, my lady?" A look of confusion came over her face, and he realized that she had not understood him.

"_What _is my name?" she asked, slowly, stumbling over the syllables. "Ah...its...meaning? Is that right?" She furrowed her brow in confusion. "I am mistaking this, no?"

"Perhaps, my Lady. I do not ask for the meaning of your name, simply the name itself."

"Oh!" she said. "Then why did you not say, 'how are you called?'" She set a bowl of the fragrant soup before him, and he found with some surprise that he had a hearty appetite. He ate slowly, so as not to jar the back of his head more than necessary.

"I suspect it is nothing more than a difference in grammar between Haradrim and Westron, my lady," he said with a smile. "In that case, I shall ask you properly. Fair lady, how are you called?"

"Payesha Sainath," she said with a sweeping bow, and allowed him to kiss the tips of her fingers. "And you are, Lord?"

"Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower, from Rivendell," he answered. "Only my friend's twin sons call me that, however, and it gets tiresome. Call me Glorfindel."

Payesha silently sounded the name out, and he realized that she was trying to pronounce it without a Haradic accent.

"Glorfindel," she said slowly. Then she cast a look at his bandaged head. "Are you in pain at all?"

"Some. Is this a pain-reducing herb that has been packed under the bandage?"

"Yes, and some mold."

Glorfindel looked up at her, puzzled.

"Mold? You mean the filth upon old fruit?"

"Here, we have a type upon date fruit that routs infection." She drew forth a vial of some white liquid and handed it to him once he had finished his soup.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It will help you to sleep," she said, gathering up her things. "The healers say that sleep is the best thing you can have at this stage after injury, and I shall be back in an hour or so to see to you, and one of the healers will come in every fifteen minutes or so to make sure you are all right."

Glorfindel permitted her to take away the bowl and then uncorked the phial. Payesha had turned away, so he put the phial to his lips and drained it. Suddenly, Payesha turned back to him. "Oh, by the way, only take a quarter of-" Glorfindel's eyelids fluttered, and he promptly began to snore. In horror, Payesha snatched up the phial and groaned at the sight. The bottle was decidedly empty.

"_Shala. _No!" She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, wondering what she could possibly do. Another thought came to her and she groaned, banging her head against the marble wall with a resounding _thud. _"Wait until Ninitha and Khala find out I've done it _again!_"

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><p>Like it? Hate it? Review! But no flames please :)<p>

So, Payesha's finally met Glorfindel! And looks like lightning does strike twice when her medical skills are involved. Or perhaps Glorfindel's just too eager to drain bottles which a pretty lady happens to push into his hands.


	3. The Beginnings of Friendship

We're going to have side convos in this chap, so regular will be Haradic and italic is Westron.

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><p>Anjana strode up the gleaming white steps to Kalsini's front entrance.<p>

She stopped for a moment, and cast an affectionate glance over the pale, glittering palace, which was illuminated in brilliant hues of violet and gold in the light of the setting sun. It had been her home ever since she had wed the king, or the _krigsherre, _as he was called. Her husband, a burly young man with an impish smile and large ears, spent most of his days training the younger soldiers and instructing the low-ranking commanders. His name was Lashanth, though she often called him Lasha simply to see the red rise in his cheeks and neck. Payesha was like a daughter to them both; she received her priestess's training from Lashanth and a few other priests in the afternoon, and her lessons in healing were delivered by Anjana in the evenings and sometimes the mornings.

As the two guards flanking the lapis-inlaid door bowed to her, she strode past them and into the entrance hall, which was adorned by fine paintings, priceless gems, and a gold-embroidered carpet upon the floor. She had barely the time to hand her bow and daggers to an attendant when she felt something hit her from behind and swarm up her back to perch on her shoulders. Anjana looked upward to see the round, gleeful face of her four-year-old daughter peering down at her.

"My Kamala," she said, plucking the child from her shoulders and cradling her in her arms. "My baby." Anjana pressed a kiss to her daughter's forehead and started up the wide staircase with Kamala on her right him. "What did you do all the day while I was gone?"

"I sneaked into the servants' hall."

Anjana sighed. "Have I not told you time and again that you are too small to go down there? You could get hurt, and I would never know." She tossed Kamala into the air, and the little girl shrieked in delight. "Do you want me to leave the Guard and stay at home to mind you?"

"No. Payesha is lots more fun when you're not here," said Kamala complacently.

Her mother lifted an eyebrow. "Oh? How so?" Anjana fervently prayed that Payesha had not conjured up yet another mad scheme with Ninitha and Khala. On a previous occasion, they had exchanged the signs that announced the entrances to the boys' and the girls' dancing-halls. Several young girls had fainted upon seeing a band of raucous boys come crashing into the girls' dancing room.

"Oh, she killed her newest patient. Killed him dead, one of the seamstresses said so. I was under the table while she was talking to a cook."

Anjana stopped short.

"Killed her newest-"

"The elf. Everyone says that one oughtn't to trust Yesha with any kind of sleeping draught-"

"Oh, sweet Deva." Anjana stuffed Kamala unceremoniously into the arms of a nearby maid and ran up to the third floor. She had a stitch in her side by the time she reached the infirmary, and was clutching her side in a rather ungainly fashion when she burst into Glorfindel's sickroom. He had been looking at a map in his pack. Payesha was by his side, and she held a quill in one hand.

"K_alsini ought to be right about here_," she murmured in Westron, pointing to a spot on the map. "_We're quite near the border and only a few leagues from the sea, so this is where we'd be."_ Payesha took the map from Glorfindel and drew a six-pointed star on a spot to the south and west of Mordor.

"What is going on?" asked Anjana in Haradic, addressing Payesha directly. "I leave for just one day and I come back...and apparently the servants have been gossiping about you killing the elf? WHAT has happened, Payesha?"

Payesha lifted her brows. "Nothing happened, my Lady. I brought Glorfindel breakfast in the morning, gave him a sleeping-draught, and then came back to talk with him. To improve my Westron, you know. I'm still terrible with the grammar and he's been helping me. And then he brought out a map of Aksha and asked me where we were. His map hasn't got any cities plotted in Harad at all, so I just told him where Kalsini should be."

Now it was Anjana's turn to lift an eyebrow. "Glorfindel?"

"That's his name. Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower."

"What is he, a prince?"

At this, Payesha's jaw dropped and she turned back to Glorfindel. _"I forgot to inform you, my lord, that my liege and tutor is also the queen of Harad. You are standing in her presence." _

Glorfindel's eyes widened. "My greatest apologies, my Lady. I had no notion that I was in the presence of royalty." Anjana's jaw dropped; Glorfindel had uttered the two sentences in near-perfect Haradic.

She inclined her head to him in response and then answered in Westron. "_If you would excuse the two of us, Glorfindel, I must have Payesha now. I have returned late and she will have hardly any time for her studies at this rate."_

Glorfindel nodded. "_Of course, my Lady. And-I have not thanked you properly for saving me yesterday. If not for you, I would probably have died by the time my companions returned. I owe you my life."_

Anjana waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "_Of course not. And I did nothing; It was my attendant who walked all the way back to Kalsini so that you would not be jostled too much by the horse. Rest well tonight, and keep off the back of your head if you can."_

_"Thank you, my Lady." _

As soon as Glorfindel showed signs of reclining upon his pillows, Anjana seized Payesha around her wrist and practically dragged her from the room. Though the previous queen of the Haradwaith, Lashanth's dead mother, would have thought it scandalously improper, Anjana was only twenty-six and merely seven years older than Payesha herself. "What happened? Do not say that the rumor about you killing him was entirely unwarranted. I know enough by now to realize that although the servants of Kalsini may have wagging tongues, there is a grain of truth in nearly every embroidered tale they tell. So, tell me," Anjana had recovered from her shock, and her voice was no longer strained. "What went on today?"

"Well, I accidentally overdosed him with sleeping-draught," said Payesha with a shrug. "The servants got that part right, at least. But it was the weakest one, so he woke up before long. I had nothing else to do, so I talked with him. I embarassed myself thoroughly in the morning-he asked me for my name, and I mistook the intent behind his questions. He asked me to teach him basic Haradic."

"So that you did not embarrass yourself again in Westron? You looked to be doing quite well in it from the little I heard."

"I think that's why, although, of course, he was far too polite to say so, my Lady." Payesha made a wry face. "Either way, I think I've made an interesting friend."

"All right. I'll concede that if you've done any damage today, it was ephemeral and entirely accidental," said Anjana with a grin.

"What lessons have I to-night?" asked Payesha, trying and failing to smother a yawn that suddenly took hold of her.

"None, child. Go rest. It was merely a ruse."

Payesha yawned again and then stumbled off to bed.

* * *

><p>Within a few days, Glorfindel's head had healed enough for him to rise from his bed and take some slight steps about his room. After a week had passed, he left his room and thoroughly explored Kalsini one night, and walked so quietly and softly that not even the night watch heard him coming. He continued to teach Payesha Westron, as he sensed the girl's crippling insecurity that she would speak and he would not understand a word she said.<p>

"What does your name mean?" Glorfindel asked one afternoon, as Payesha instructed him on the difference between two different types of Haradic verbs. "It is indeedame, but none I have heard even in the palace or amongst the other people."

"Payesha means gold, or coin," she answered. "But if you were to remove the P, Ayesha means 'Life.' Most of my friends call me Yesha, and I answer to all three names."

"Payesha would translate to Malthenniel in my tongue," he told her. "But if you were to use the name Ayesha, the translation would be Cuiledhwen."

"I like the sound of that," she said, smiling slightly. "Cuiledhwen. Does it suit me?"

"I am not used to the practice of bestowing Sindarin names upon mortals," said Glorfindel. "Within an Elven realm, there are never two individuals with the name name. I am already acquainted with a young elf-maid called Malthenniel. My younger brother, Rumil, married an elleth named Cuiledhwen about twenty summers ago."

"Oh." Payesha's face drooped slightly. Then it brightened. "Do you recall that I promised to take you to the sacred hall of flame today?"

"Yes, I do. I do not wish to impose,in either case."

Payesha rolled her eyes and hoisted him up from his chair. "Don't be so backward. You'll like it."

And with that she dashed from the room, as Glorfindel followed with a slight smile and a spring in his step.

* * *

><p>Review, my lovelies! It's Christmas!<p>

And in answer to the pms I received after returning to fanfiction, my familyand I are happy and healthy. Victor decided to grow a beard, and I put up with it lol. He still gets sugar highs and sings randomly when he feels like it. My twins, Amandine and Amarante (we ended up just calling them Tyler and May, because people can barely pronounce their first names) are identical and adorable. They're very close, and they often cry if they're not together. I got them little baby jewelry for Christmas. :)


	4. An Army of Women

Anjana stripped off her boots, exhausted.

The armory was deserted. She had been delayed on the way back from patrol; her horse's shoe had suddenly splintered, and she had already remained behind so she could closer examine something that she had noticed on the ride out from Kalsini. As she was passing a date palm, she had seen that a cross and an eye had been hacked into its bark. Anjana had dismissed it as a childish prank, until she and her company were returning from the border. She recalled, as a child, that her parents and older siblings had forbidden her from playing where the scouts ran their patrols, as orcs and bandits frequently strayed within the boundaries of the Haradwaith. She doubted a group of children would stray so far from their mothers into an area about which the patrols brought home chilling tales at least every few months. The sign had been irking her all the way back, and when she has passed the tree a second time, she noticed something that made a chill creep up her spine.

Above the cross and the eye was a third image-a crude carving of her husband's amulet, the seal which was the symbol of the _krigsherre's _rule. No one had been in sight. As far as Anjana knew, the only child who had ever seen the amulet was Kamala, her own daughter, and there was no way that Kamala could have come twenty leagues out into the desert.

It disturbed her, as if there was some meaning behind the symbols. She thought back to the orc attack which had occurred three weeks previously, and wondered if the two could possibly be connected. Although Mordor had long been silent and still, there were, betimes, days when a wind from the north would carry with it a foul stench, and the feeling, rather than a sound, of something stirring on the other side of the black mountains.

Lashanth was already in bed by the time she reached their chambers, and he murmured and sat up, still half-asleep, as she put on her nightgown and climbed into bed beside him.

"You look troubled," he said quietly, opening his eyes and propping himself up on his elbow to look at her. "What ails you, sweetheart?"

"I found some strange carvings on a palm while I was on patrol today," she answered, relaxing in his embrace. "None of my company could have done it, and certainly none of the children..."

"The lads have been growing more daring, but I think even they know not to stray near the border," Lashanth said with a frown. "I shall alert the watch, and tell them to send a few men out to the border tonight."

"No, I sent a dove ahead before I returned," said Anjana. "Twenty men should be there now. They passed me when I was five leagues from here."

He nodded. "Good." Lashanth scrutinized her face more closely, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "There is something more troubling you, Anju."

"The winds from Mordor bear a strange voice nowadays, as if the dark one has returned," said Anjana. She turned her face up to his, finally unveiling the nameless fear that lurked in her heart. "You know that Sauron took the Variags from Khand-our own Southrons-the Easterlings of Rhun-yanked them from our lands until the leaders of Rhun allied themselves with Him and turned upon us and upon Khand."

"If he returns, this will be the fate we will come against," answered Lashanth. "There is naught else that will come to pass, and every Haradrim within our border knows it to be so."

"We must ward ourselves from him," said Anjana, a spark kindling in her black eyes. "Send emissaries to the other Eastern nations-"

"All in good time," he said. "Trust me when I say that when the time to act comes, we will know. For now, we will have to ward our borders with the priestesses' song-magic, and cast the spells well. Do you know anyone who would be willing to lead the rites?"

"Song-magic is taxing, Lasha, and to lead such a tiring endeavour would easily kill a delicate priestess. You know this as well as I."

"But you know as well as I that there is only one young priestess suited to the job, and she is one whom it would be hard to kill with a meat-axe." Anjana smiled t his words. "Why, I've seen her work magicks which would even tire you on the best days, and without even a change in her breathing."

"Payesha," Anjana smiled. "That one has the vim and energy I have seen in no other woman."

"Of course," said Lashanth, wrapping an arm about her waist. "Ask her tomorrow, and I shall have as many priestesses accompany her as can be spared. It would be a tragedy indeed if one of them perished in the act. Now sleep, Anju. We have much to prepare for tomorrow."

* * *

><p>It took Glorfindel's eyes some moments to adjust to the red light of the underground caves. Payesha walked ahead, feeling the stone with her bare feet<p>

"How exactly is this song-magic done?" he asked.

Ever since he had woken three weeks ago, he had peppered Payesha with question after question about Haradic life, determined to find out how much of his knowledge was false. When he had asked whether or not there were any wizards in Harad, there had been a slight difficulty in translation; Payesha had never heard the word "wizard" before in her life. However, he settled for the term "worker of magic," and was astonished when Payesha nodded.

"You have beings who can work magic?"

"Not in the way you describe of...Gandalf and Saruman? Those are their names, no? We use song to accomplish whatever it is we will, and after a great deal of practice one need only utter the songs in the mind."

"Are you one of the...magic-workers, my Lady?"

"I do wish, Glorfindel, that you would call me simply Payesha. After all, I'm nothing but a child by your reckoning. An elf of my age would hardly be taller than my waist."

Glorfindel nodded his acquiescence. "That is true."

"Yes, I am. My parents were rather...accomplished, by our standards. Most of us pick a trade as soon as we are old enough to tell the differences between them, and we are tutored in these until we are proficient enough in them to lend our knowledge to others. Most choose to become soldiers, like Anjana, because the threat from Khand and Rhun is ever present. It has only been five or so years since the last Kvisten War, when Rhun took over Khand and demoted it to a province."

"Indeed?" asked Glorfindel, his brow furrowed. "I had no knowledge of this, and neither do any of my brethren. How is it that we did not know?"

"When all of Mordor and the Rhovanion lie between us and you, my Lord," said Payesha, "you ought to wonder how you could possibly find out such a thing. And none among our three nations would contact you, even if we were in the most dire need."

"You have no knowledge on which to base such a thing. You are only a child, and have not seen such a need."

Payesha gave no indication that his comment had ruffled her, but her posture changed, turning from loose and relaxed to tensely upright. "Mordor yanked soldiers from Khand, Harad, and Rhun when Sauron yet lived. Harad did not call for aid then, but fought its own battles, as ever."

"We were...similarly occupied, my Lady, I assure you. I was very much present then," said Glorfindel, his mouth twitching. "I can safely vow that the Firstborn carried their burden in the fight against Sauron valiantly."

"You may fool yourself as you so wish," Glorfindel was startled to hear that Payesha's voice was little more than a whisper.

"What do you mean?"

"Our people have not the choice yours do...to sail away from Aksha and leave all troubles behind. If he returns, all of the world will need the elves who have departed these shores. There will be a time where all the free peoples will cry out for aid, and none will come. I can feel it in my heart."

Sensing the tenseness of her demeanour, Glorfindel returned at once to the subject of song-magic. "So how does one train to do magic?"

"Well...I am not the typical case for anything, so I shall explain it as I experienced it, if that is agreeable to you." At Glorfindel's nod, Payesha went on. "My mother was a healer, and my father an enchanter. My mother died mere moments after my birth, not even having the time to look upon my face even once. My father, however, gave me the name that she had desired for me, Payesha, and encouraged me to follow her path as a healer, for he felt that if he had chosen to be one, he might have saved my mother. However, he could not have. She was far too young and far too frail for childbearing."

"How old was she?" asked Glorfindel.

"Merely fifteen summers old. She had been married to Father since she was thirteen, and had already miscarried two children before me. She had such hopes for me, though," said Payesha with a smile. "She desired to be the most attentive mother possible, although she was only a child herself. When her physician told her that her child would probably live until birth, she was so happy. I don't think she thought she would perish giving me life."

"Is it...often done, to marry so early?"

"No. There was some money involved in the marriage...some debt my mother's father owed my father's. My father's father told my mother's that a wedding price would cover the debt, although he did not mean for my parents to marry. However, my grandfather leapt at the chance to have the debt off his hands and married my mother off to my father. Most girls are married by eighteen."

"How old are you?"

"I? Nearly nineteen. But many priestesses choose never to marry, so I have found no trouble there. I've had suitors for three or four years, though."

"And once again we have become diverted from the topic of our discussion," said Glorfindel with a smile. However, his stomach churned. The elves treasured their children, as they were so rare; the curse to atone for the immortal life of the Firstborn. What man would marry off a mere child to pay a debt? Had he not known that a woman who had children young was not unlikely to die even before her child was born?

"Oh, song-magic. Well, I decided to follow both trades. I learn healing from Anjana, whom you met, and her husband Lashanth, the king."

"Is he the jug-eared one who trains the mumakil and the younger soldiers?"

Payesha snickered at this description of the king of Harad. "Yes, that is he. But anyway, song-magic is done in ancient Haradic...the only remnant of Rhun we carry with us. It seems to be imbued with some dark power...a strength gleaned from Mordor, perhaps."

They had reached a door, and Payesha swung it open. The light was dazzling; the room within was ablaze with torches. It was filled by veiled girls; some were chanting, some were reading, and som were dancing in small, synchronized groups, murmuring softly in unison as they did so. gleaming silken robes in shades of emerald, vermilion, and turquoise. All of them were embroidered with gold or silver thread. Glorfindel had only a moment to wonder at the scene before him when dimly muffled screams came through the floor above them. Everyone in the hall fell silent, and five hundred eyes turned up at once to the ceiling, listening with all their might.

The cry that came was unmistakably Ninitha Khev's; she was clearly in the antechamber in front of the room that concealed the entrance to the underground dancing hall; she was crying out, "Let me go! Let me go!" A sudden thud rang through the dim hallway behind them, and all the torches within it were extinguished immediately. The trapdoor leading to the underground hall had been hurriedly shut and locked. Payesha stood dazed for a moment, and then took charge, standing at the front of the silent room.

"How many here have weapons?" she called, her voice carrying throughout the chamber, though it was soft, so as not to carry to the floor above. About half of those present raised their hands as a sudden storm of cries, shouts, and clangs rang from above.

"Good. Those who do, follow me. Those who do not, lock this chamber after we leave. We may be the only hope of the people trapped above us."

Glorfindel unsheathed his sword and followed Payesha as she walked to a fireplace, doused the flame, and pressed a hidden catch concealed there. To Glorfindel's astonishment, the back of the fireplace slid upward and then outward, cutting off the chimney. A pitch-black space was concealed within, and a set of stairs suddenly came into view. Payesha started up them, Glorfindel close on her heels. The armed girls followed behind, walking as quietly as a troupe of cats.

"Payesha," whispered Glorfindel, treading as softly as any of them. "I do not understand...what is going on?"

She turned back to him, her kohl-rimmed eyes a cold, hard, bright black in the light of the torch she held.

"Is it not obvious, Glorfindel? We're under attack."

* * *

><p>CLIFFIE!<p>

Review.


	5. Seventy-three Spells

"There were only ten men fighting the guards in the hall," said Glorfindel, perplexed, once the fight was over and done with. "What did they want? And what could they ever have hoped to accomplish, so outnumbered?"

When he, Payesha, and their miniature army had made their way aboveground, they had found a small battle in full swing. It had been quickly finished, and the wort wound anyone had received was a broken ankle (the young soldier had fallen backward down the stairs into the underground hall while trying to decapitate his rather burly opponent.)

He and Payesha were in the infirmary, where there were twenty-two guards and girls sporting flesh wounds in varying degrees of severity. No one had been hurt badly; Glorfindel had had a small knife driven to the hilt into the flesh of his right shoulder, and Payesha was dressing the wound. Anjana and six other army healers were moving here and there amongst the others, tying bandages, murmuring soft incantations, and threading fine needles to sew up particularly large gashes. Payesha had a phial of ointment in her hands, and she was carefully cleaning Glorfindel's wound.

"I've no idea," said Payesha, gritting her teeth. What she had thought was an attack was, in fact, only ten Haradrim guards who had turned upon their fellows in the upper worshiping hall; one had taken Ninitha hostage in an attempt to bargain with Anjana for his freedom. One had broken into the apartments of Anjana and Lashanth and attempted to kill the _krigsherre, _who had briefly returned from the training fields to retrieve a bow; his chambers were closer to the training fields than the armory. Lashanth had easily incapacitated his attacker, and the eleven men were now in the underground dungeons, awaiting trial.

"Has this happened before?" asked Glorfindel.

Payesha ignored him, looking at his face. Though Glorfindel's skin usually bore a moon-like sheen, it seemed to be absent, and his lips were slightly blue.

"I don't like your colouring," she said. "You're too pale, and your lips are dark."

"What do you mean?" asked Glorfindel, putting one hand up to his face as if he expected to feel a difference in his skin. "Do not worry about me, Yesha. If I have survived death, I think I can easily bear the blood loss from one small flesh wound. Calm yourself and attend to the ones who need you. I barely noticed it when I was hurt, and there is absolutely no reason you should remain here.

"I'll go fetch a mirror, or a dagger or something, so you can see," she answered, her brow creased with concern as she departed the infirmary and walked to a rack in the hallway, where several wide ornamental daggers (usually used for more serious healing procedures) hung among other medical instruments. She saw no reason why the change should have taken place, unless...

_Unless the knife was poisoned..._The thought whispered itself into her ears, and her heart went cold. As a rule, the Haradrim never used poison; it was a dishonorable means of fighting, and could be far more painful than an arrow through the heart, which would at least deliver death quickly...Payesha snatched up a jeweled dagger studded with turquoises and returned to the room in time to see the blood leave Glorfindel's face as he crumpled to the floor.

"_Naleyak!_" she cursed as she ran to the bed where he had been sitting. Anjana was already at his side, and she hoisted him back to the bed unaided. She turned him over and studied the wound, running her fingers over the gouge.

"Don't touch it!" cried Payesha, before she recalled whom she was talking to. Anjana pressed one bloodied finger to her lips and shock came over her face. "Don't, Anjana, he's been poisoned!"

"He hasn't," said Anjana, wiping her fingers and cleaning them with a simple spell. She held out her hand for the jeweled surgical dagger, which Payesha wordlessly handed her. "Not by this dagger he was pierced by today, at least...Someone knew that if they stabbed him, he would die of the first wound from a month ago without us paying any mind to the death which was originally meant to take him." She placed her first finger on the back of Glorfindel's head and ran it down the curve of the skull, stopping at the beginning of the area where the crack had been. " No Haradrim attempts to tab someone in the heart and embeds the blade high in the shoulder, not even the youngest novice. Not even a child. It was done on pupose, the flesh wound." She raised her voice. "Have someone carry him into the operating room," she called, exiting the room to collect some more of the daggers. "Payesha, come with me."

"I don't understand," whispered Payesha as Anjana lifted the rack of daggers off the wall. Behind her, three healers were carrying Glorfindel into a smaller room leading off the main infirmary. "What's wrong?"

"The wound he received when he arrived in Harad was poisoned...by a slow-acting poison which I studied as a girl, though I have never come across it before. It will cause his brain to swell until he begins to bleed internally, and he will most likely die. The taste of it is in his blood. However-"

"He can't die." Payesha's eyes were wide. "He can't. He's an elf-who could have done this? Our own are in league with orcs?" She began to tremble, and her jaw seemed to lock. Anjana stared at her for a moment, then raised one hand and struck Payesha's bronze cheek with a slap that echoed around the marble walls.

"Don't lose your senses now, girl," said Anjana harshly as Payesha seemed to come back to her senses. "I'll need you to help me save him. Don't stand there shaking like a fool."

"S-save h-him? But-" Payesha seemed to collect herself. "What must I do?"

"Get fresh mold and come back, along with needles. And get someone to bring in skeins of silk thread and buckets of hot water."

* * *

><p>"What are you going to do?" asked Payesha. Anjana had thoroughly numbed Glorfindel to any pain by pouring a vial of sleeping-potion down his throat and muttering a sibilant incantation over his head.<p>

"You'll see."

Anjana took up a slender razor-tipped knife in one hand and poured hot water over Glorfindel's head with the other. She then lifted a lock of sodden, dismal-looking golden strands and cleanly shaved them away from Glorfindel's white scalp. She placed them gently on a table beside her and then lifted another lock of hair, pulling it taut; Anjana lifted a dagger with serrated edges and sliced clear through the scalp and the flesh beneath. She repeated the process twice, until she was able to peel away skin and a thin layer of muscle, baring the white bone, crisscrossed with tiny scarlet blood vessels.

Payesha silently fetched water, cloths, or slim knives at Anjana's bidding. She had seen bloodier operations carried out before; and Anjana had stopped the bleeding with a simple spell. But now, as Anjana whispered another incantation to soften the skull and sliced into the bone, Payesha felt as though she might faint. Her own knives had cut briskly into the mangled flesh of her friends time and time again, but she had never felt so torn at the sight of a comrade unconscious before her as she was now. It struck her that even though he often irked her, she and Glorfindel had become friends of a sort. She mused on that for a few seconds before she saw Anjana lift away a square chunk of bone about two inches long, and place it in a bowl of some clear fluid beside her. Payesha picked up a thick syringe and filled it with a pale liquid meant to stop infection, and pressed it into the skin of his pale elbow. Anjana, meanwhile, was sewing the flap of shaven skin closed over the incision.

"What now?" asked Payesha, her voice strangely hoarse.

Anjana sat down heavily beside her, wiping her freshly-cleaned hands with a soft cloth. Glorfindel lay prone and still on the table as three younger healers entered. They removed his wet things with a charm, replacing them with a warm white tunic and breeches. They dried his hair and turned him onto his side, immobilizing him where he lay so he would not roll backward onto the gaping hole in his skull. They made to carry him onto a stretcher, but Anjana shook her head.

"Leave him," she said in exhaustion. "Don't move him, Lissa. Let him stay there at least until he regains consciousness. If we need to do another procedure before he wakes, and I doubt we will, I'll set up a room in the east wing for it."

"What now, my Lady?" Payesha repeated her question.

Her mistress turned to look at her, dark eyes closing briefly. Anjana saw the angry red print of her hand, standing out clearly upon Payesha's bloodless face. She lifted a gentle finger to Payesha's cheek and uttered a soft healing spell in a voice that seemed almost like song.

"His brain will have room to swell now, and when it does, I can return the bone to his head...He should be all right, in a few months. That bone will take a long time to heal. My Ayesha, I am sorry," whispered Anjana. "For slapping you in the hallway."

"It doesn't matter," Payesha said, holding Anjana's hand fast. "You had to. Fear had turned me into a babbling idiot."

"Ah well," said Anjana, leaning back and lowering her eyelids until they obscured the world about her. "So many spells...took quite a bit from me," she admitted with a low laugh. Payesha started up in alarm; Anjana's usually ruddy cheeks were white beneath their coppery hue, and her breath came slowly and heavily.

"You ought to have let me!" she cried. "I'm stronger, and you must have done more than fifty spells while cutting the bone."

"Seventy-three," rasped Anjana. "I counted. But I am the head healer...it's my duty."

"You're also the captain of the guard and the queen of Harad to boot," hissed Payesha, summoning another healer, whose eyes widened at the sight of Anjana slumped in her chair. "Go and-"

"No need," came a strong and quiet voice from behind them. Payesha bowed her head as Lashanth lifted his wife into his arms as easily as if she had been a kitten.

"My Jana, what have you done to yourself?" he asked, settling her head upon his shoulder.

"Cut open the elf's skull and poured strength into him to do it," she answered. He clearly intended to reprove her for her speech, but stopped short in horror as Anjana's eyes rolled upward and a thick trickle of blood snaked out of the corner of her mouth and down her cheek. Lashanth bore her away to the main ward, calling out for a healer, and Payesha was left alone in the room with the sleeping Glorfindel. She made her way to his side and glared down at his smooth, unlined face.

"You had better recover as quickly as you can," she hissed in angry Westron. "My mistress and dearest friend has put her own life at risk for yours."

As she left the room, she did not notice the nearly imperceptible flutter of the elf's eyelids.

* * *

><p><em>"I salute you, Airoth, krigsherre of Harad," said the woman, executing a Haradrim-style bow, with one knee on the floor and one stretched forward. The krigsherre's lips twitched and he smiled.<em>

_"Never did I expect to see a woman performing a warrior's salute with a baby under her arm," he said. "Much less the fabled Anjana of history."_

_"I assure you that I am the woman of whom I speak," said the woman._

_"And the child?"_

_"She came about…through…shall we say, an unconventional way," she said._

_Airoth's eyebrows lifted. The woman shook her head. "No, I am married, to Haldir of Lorien. But I died, I believe, three days past. I had carried my daughter only for three months, but the wife of Mandos returned my life to me, and gave my daughter a body of her own."_

_"Miracles followed you wherever you went," murmured Airoth, astonishment clear on his face. "It appears that it is so even now. What is the name of the child?"_

_"Her name is Lanthiriel," said the other. "It is elvish for 'waterfall.' I call her Penneth, though."_

_"We shall call her Agni," said Airoth, his eyes turning to the elleth before him. "For indeed, she is the daughter of a goddess of fire."_

_"What would you have me do?"_

_"It is simple, my Lady," he said. "Lead us to war against the Dark One."_

Payesha awoke with a start.

* * *

><p>Review!<p> 


	6. The Sleepers Awaken

Hi guys! Sorry for the really long wait. :( May was sick for two weeks and then Tyler caught whatever it was she had, even though we kept them apart and I was feeding them separately and not on the same breast D: Both are fine though, but Tyler's nose is still stuffy so she snores at night a bit. Hope you like and do not forget to review :)

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><p>It had been a week since the attack. Both Anjana and Glorfindel had not yet woken since the procedure on the elf's head, although Anjana had stopped bleeding from the lungs and seemed to be improving, although slowly. After a day had passed, the healers had settled the question about nourishment for the two of them; neither of the two could be expected to heal without it, especially Anjana, who had drained most of her body's strength to ensure that Glorfindel survived the operation. Twice a day, the healers used a syringe to transfer fresh blood into the two, which they took from some healthy person about an hour after a meal. Many had been sympathetic to the plight of the queen and the mysterious elf, and the healers were promised more rich blood than they would have known what to do with.<p>

Payesha, deprived at once of both her mistress and her charge, spent most of her days learning new spells with Lashanth and the other apprentice spellcasters. However, he was too distracted about his wife and too busy investigating what had really preempted the previous week's skirmish that he had little time to pay to his students. When she was not working, Payesha spent time with Ninitha and Khala, who dragged her down to the bathing pools, the dancing-halls, and the marketplace as often as they could. The two forced Payesha into buying two new necklaces and a beautiful robe of deep orange and sky-blue silk.

Payesha worked for about an hour and a half with the healers in the evening, helping them tend patients and fetching medicines. She was paid a meager wage of four copper coins a day, and the lovely dress, finer than anything she herself had owned, had cost nearly half her savings. However, she resolved to wear it at the next festival, if only to cheer Anjana up; the rugged lady of Harad insisted that Payesha needed to dress up like the other girls and take some time off more often. Payesha, much to Anjana's vexation, never did.

Kamala, Anjana's little daughter, was absolutely distraught by the loss of her playful mother and the melancholy demeanour of her usually humorous father. As such, she shunned the multiple nurses, maids, governnesses and nannies who watched over her while the ever-called-for Anjana was absent. The child attached herself firmly to Payesha, and the young priestess could hardly be seen anywhere without the errant four year old perched on her shoulders or clinging tightly to her back with a limpet-like grip. Life continued in this way for all those who loved Anjana.

Finally, nine days after the operation, both Glorfindel and Anjana awoke, almost at the same time.

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><p>"Glorfindel!" cried Payesha, her voice hoarse from hours of silence. The elf's eyes had fluttered open and he had half-raised himself to a sitting position with a wince. He hardly held back a groan as he put his hand to his head. The bone had been resealed there the night previously, and Payesha wondered if the healers who had been in charge of looking after him had ensured that he remain sleeping until the swelling in his brain could lessen and the fragment of his skull that Anjana had removed could be returned to its place. "How do you feel?"<p>

"I fare very slightly better than I did after my fight with the Balrog at the fall of Gondolin," muttered Glorfindel, not halting the probing exploration of the back of his head.

"Don't touch that!" squeaked Payesha. He dropped his hand and stared at her.

"Why ever not, my Lady? And...what has happened? Did I lose my senses from the blood loss and strike my head on the floor?"

Payesha rolled her eyes. "Injuries are _never _quite that simple with you, no matter how much everyone involved might wish they are. No, your brain was poisoned."

Glorfindel's eyes widened. "What?"

"When you were first brought here, someone struck you with a poisoned weapon," explained Anjana. "It had on it a toxin that Anjana read about when she was only a girl, and if she had not read the history of one such case where a young woman was struck with it, you would have gone to the palaces of the Devas without us even realizing that the problem was not your shoulder."

"It still feels slightly stiff," said Glorfindel, rotating his left arm experimentally. "Because I have lain abed and taken no food for days, no doubt."

"Probably. You and Anjana have both been given sustenance since the day you fell unconscious, though; you would be surprised to know how many people were willing to split open their own veins to pour life into yours-both of you. Lashanth weakened himself so much for Anjana's sake that the healers forced him out of the room where they were extracting the blood and forbade him the infirmary."

"Who gave their blood to me?" asked Glorfindel. "That is a debt which cannot fail to be repaid."

"I did," said Payesha, with a low voice and a slight flush. She knew the disapproval the decision would be met with, and was not disappointed.

"You! Why did you not allow others to do it?"

"Because it felt wrong," she said with a sigh. "I know you, and we have been acquainted for no more than a month. The only people who have seen you regularly are the guards of the palace, and I doubt you have exchanged many words with even them. There are only three people whom you speak to often, and those are Anjana, Lashanth, and myself. Anjana is ill herself and Lashanth has made himself ill by pouring out his blood for her. There were many who were willing to give you the blood you needed to make a full recovery, but I chose to take that duty upon myself. I am the one who knows you best, and Anjana nearly died in her attempt to save you. It was my place to give you my blood, and no others's. More have given theirs to you, because the healers feared I should sicken myself if I lost too much."

"Thank you, Lady Ayesha," he said softly, clearly touched by her words. "I do not know many who would pour their life-force out to a mere stranger when there was only a hope that he would live."

"It was much more than a hope," said Payesha tartly, raising one eyebrow at the elf prone on a little white pallet. "After all, Anjana treated you and tired herself greatly-and she is one of the strongest healers there is. And I, too, was watching over you all this time. Rest assured, I didn't give you anything I shouldn't have like I did the day we first met," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

"That does not lessen the weight of your sacrifice," said Glorfindel, bowing his head to her. "If you ever require a service done, my Lady, I shall remain your steadfast and humble servant for as long as you ask-and after."

"Your chivalry is admirable," said Payesha with a faint half-smile, her mind returning to the strong, tall, proud young woman lying cold and silent in the upstairs ward with her mourning husband and sorrowing child by her side. "It is Anjana who wielded the knife and saved you from the poison, not I."

"But it has been more than a month since my skull was cracked," he said. "How was it that I only felt the effects of the poison yesterday?"

Payesha snorted. "You've been unconscious for a good ten days, Glorfindel. Whoever stabbed you in the shoulder intended you to die a painful death without us knowing what was wrong with you. They must have known you'd been poisoned and the attack was planned for the very hours before it was set to take its toll. Anjana tasted your blood and recognized the characteristic scent of the poison. It's called _Ayeshachi Madyapana- - _the Drinker of Life. She knew right away that the reason you had fainted was because your brain was swelling against the inside of your skull, and she did something quite mad to save you, to be honest."

"What did she do?" he said warily, feeling himself all over to see if his limbs and head were all fully intact.

"The poison, as she knew it, was a death sentence-she had never learned any way to counter it. But she knew that aside from the swelling, you were all right, so she took a chance and cut open your skull and removed a piece of your skull." Glorfindel raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed. "She didn't tell me that she had no idea whether or not it would work-she took an instant to make a decision and then she stuck fast to it. Lashanth told me later that she didn't want me to fear until she had no hope left. I knew you were going to be well, of course, by the time that he told me-and even then I nearly tumbled over where I stood. Anjana worked a miracle-and now the effects of _Ayeshachi Madyapana _can be cured. It should probably be done by three or more healers, though," said Payesha with a frown. "Perhaps even as many as six; not many are as skilled at magic as she is."

"I doubt that even Lord Elrond of Imladris could do such a thing," he said. "I know the poison of which you speak-back in the first age of Sauron's rule. he had this poison delivered to choice descendants of Numenor and to as many High Elves as his spies could find. We, however, call it S_ôgannen Cuil. _I saw many ellyn brought to the gates of Rivendell, bearing trivial flesh wounds yet sunk in a sleep from which they could not be roused. Lord Elrond could find no way to rescue them, not even after he examined the dead bodies."

"Once Anjana removed the piece of skull, she stumbled over to a chair and started bleeding from the mouth. She had given so much energy to you healing that even the breaths she drew tore at the insides of her lungs."

Glorfindel started visibly, seemingly oblivious to the pain in his head. "Is the queen well?"

"Yes, she is all right. Still sleeping, but all right."

He relaxed, and then his brow furrowed again. "My Lady...if the effects of magic can be shared with other spellcasters, why is it that the queen did not enlist anyone to help her?"

"There was no time," explained Payesha with a sigh. "She began work on you less than ten minutes after you collapsed in the main ward. And she has never used magic to cut away the skull before, so she had no notion of how much energy it would require to ensure your survival. I suppose she was working so quickly that she thought it would be no more difficult than removing an infected limb or something. And if she did know how much it would take to save you..."

"Yes?" Glorfindel prompted.

"If she did think it might be impossible, she would not have asked anyone to aid her in healing you, least of all me. If a spellcaster attempts to perform magic that has been decreed impossible by the laws of the Devas-no matter if even a thousand-strong group of magic-workers bend all their strength to the same task-the only possible consequence is death. And once the magic is begun, it cannot be called back, not even by the strongest of our enchanters. Anjana-Anjana had learned that the effects of _Ayeshachi Madyapana _could never be cured, and the possibility of her death was, probably, a very real one to her. Yet she wielded the blade as coolly as if she were removing an arrow from a shoulder."

"By the Valar," breathed Glorfindel. "She should not have put her life at risk for me. It would have been better for me to die than have a woman-a queen-spend all her vitality upon an intruder in her homeland whom she barely knows."

"That is Anjana," said Payesha, sighing at the thought of her sick mistress. "Now, enough talking. You'll undo all her work if you tire yourself out by incessantly working your jaw."

"As you wish, my Lady," said Glorfindel, with lips that had paled and thinned since the last time she had seen them move.

"Would you like something to eat? Broth would be best for you, so that you do not jar your head with too much chewing. If you want something more substantial, I can bring you some tender meat, although I would not recommend it in the slightest."

"I have been talking with you for the last half-hour," he pointed out with a smile.

"As much as I hate to tell you, that's different," said Payesha, moving to a corner where several long, slender red vials stood with three clean syringes. She fitted one of the blood-filled bottles onto a syringe and advanced upon Glorfindel, who looked skeptically at it and then at her.

"I do not doubt the speed which injections of blood have lent to my recovery, but I am awake now, and I can take food."

"You haven't had even water pass your lips for nine days," said Payesha, beckoning an inexorable finger. Reluctantly, Glorfindel extended his white arm, and Payesha's dark fingers obscured the skin of his inner elbow (which, Glorfindel noticed, was red and swollen from repeated intrusions of the needle) and delivered the vial of blood into Glorfindel's vein. He clenched his teeth slightly, for both the inside of the vein and his skin were tender and irritated from his nine days of being fed with a syringe.

"I may drink broth, as you stated earlier, could I not?"

"Yes, you could, but...you might throw it all back up again and it will be better for you to have some nourishment in your body if that happens." Glorfindel raised an eyebrow at her and then sighed.

"My dear Payesha, you have forgotten that elves heal more than ten times as swiftly as the strongest of men. I have never, in thousands of years upon this earth, had my stomach purged due to illness. There will be no more of that," he said, nodding towards the table where more vials and syringes stood ready, "and I feel that some harm has been done to the skin of my elbows."

"It will heal, though, won't it?"

"Of course it will." Glorfindel now seemed slightly put out. "I...find I have an appetite. May I trouble you to have some food brought, my Lady?"

Payesha sensed that something had shifted, although she could not fathom what. Had she offended Glorfindel by giving him the vial of blood? Had she hurt him so badly that he wanted her out of the room so she would not see? What had happened? He had referred to her by name, and then returned at once to his former cold and proper, "my Lady."

"Nothing more than broth, though."

Glorfindel acquiesced with a wearied sigh, and Payesha immediately felt unspeakably guilty for forcing him to take the blood and denying him substantial food. After all, the healers had knitted the bone so carefully back into place that Glorfindel, aside from the pain in the skin that had had to be stitched over again, would never even have noticed it had been gone in the first place...

"Actually...You've been on nourishing broths and stews your whole time here. You haven't even had any of the sauces that Harad is famous for! Or even a good cut of meat, because Anjana was so keen on giving you those foods for patients she had been working on. Would you like some other food?"

"Harad is famous for its sauces, my lady?" said Glorfindel passively. "I had not heard."

"You do want real food, don't you?"

"No, My Lady, I fear it would pain my head as you informed me it might."

"Won't you at least have some savory chicken with soft bread?" Payesha almost begged. "It's in a thick broth of its own. I'll give you a thinner broth too, if you like, and I'll make sure it's good. You can dip the bread into it, so you will hardly have to chew it at all Or I'll bring you some fruit. You can have anything you want, but do eat something."

Glorfindel, who seemed to have been quietly musing over something, raised startled eyes at the sound of the agitated tone in Payesha's voice. "Oh, Payesha, do not worry," he said, patting her hand with a soft smile. "I will be happy to eat whatever you put in front of me and be grateful for it. And I am immensely thankful to you for watching over me for so long."

Payesha rose, reassured, and left the room with an brow unlined by worry.

Glorfindel slumped back onto his pillows with a hoarse sigh and a brief groan of pain.

* * *

><p>"Anjana!" cried Lashanth, as his wife stirred feebly and opened her dark eyes. He cradled her to him, shedding hot tears upon his wife's head.<p>

"Lashanth," murmured Anjana in exhaustion. She brushed his lips with a weary smile and focused blearily upon his face. "So he is all right, then? The elf, I mean."

"Yes, he is. Payesha has been watching over him." He bent to kiss her but was interrupted as a small flying object rushed into the room, knocked Lashanth back into his chair, and scrambled up onto the bed, finally flinging tiny arms around Anjana's neck and bursting into tears.

"Mama," sobbed Kamala, burying her face in her mother's bosom. "I missed you. I thought you were going to die."

Anjana lifted her daughter up, placing tickling kisses all over Kamala's cheeks and forehead until the child's tears turned to laughter. "My sweet _babu, _my precious baby, I missed you too." She smiled in contentment as her husband climbed onto the bed, taking them both in his arms. "I missed you both so much."

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><p>They're awake! And what has Glory in such a tizzy! review to find out in the next update!<p>

~Lily


	7. Blue And Orange Gems

Hi! I'm just updating again because I feel like it, this chapter may not be as long as the last.

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><p>Glorfindel sat alone in his room. His heart was pounding as he sensed each of the changes that had come over his body. First of all, his heartbeat and pulse were harder and faster; he could feel an ever-so-slight dulling of his sight, hearing, and smell. He could no longer feel the individual texture of ever thread in the sheets and blankets. His skin felt infinitesimally rougher, and his hair was less supple and had lost some of its inherent shine. He looked at himself in the glass that hung opposite the pallets in the room, and winced. Aside from the change that had taken place from nine days in bed, his eyes were not as lustrous as they had been previously, and the angle of his eyebrows seemed altered; they were less arched than they used to be. In fact, he now looked slightly less like an elf, and more like Elrond, the twins, or Arwen-he almost looked like a peredhil.<p>

He could think of only one reason for the worrying change; the human blood that now ran in his veins. He cursed the thought of the healer who had felt it would be best for an elf to be treated with human blood; elves could go days without eating and could heal fully even during month-long comas. He swore inwardly a second time when he realized that he would, most likely, heal more slowly than he would have otherwise.

Glorfindel pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes as he strove valiantly not to panic; the healers had been acting on behalf of his own health, and the blood had probably done some good. His breathing slowed when he recalled what Elrond had told him, many years ago; elven blood was fully replenished by the bones at least once every month, while human blood was replenished only three or four times a year. The time necessary for Glorfindel to return to his original state would, most probably, fall somewhere in between the two spans. Four months was nothing; it would not be long before his body was mended entirely.

Fortunately for Glorfindel, he reached this comforting conclusion by the time Payesha reentered the room. She bore before her three small pots and a plate stacked high with some sort of soft white bread. The contents of the tray were steaming, and the vessels wafted forth a savory, tempting scent. The smell of the food was undoubtedly laden with spices Glorfindel knew he had probably never heard of, and was nothing like the broths and stews Anjana had forced down his throat in the past. His mouth began to water, tanalized by the mixture of strange, delicious odor which ticked his nose with their clashing, exotic flavors. Payesha set down the tray on the little folding table and picked up another wide tray from a corner; Glorfindel swiftly saw that it was a bed-table, for Payesha swiftly unfolded it, setting the legs on either side of his knees. She then lifted the laden tray and put it down on the table. She took off the lid and revealed an orange sort of curry, in which pieces of white chicken were visible. She ladled a generous helping of this onto Glorfindel's plate, followed by a serving of some sort of mixture of peas and potatoes. Finally, she filled a smaller bowl with curd, and then handed him two round pieces of soft, unleavened bread.

"How do I eat it?" asked Glorfindel, who had noticed the absence of forks and spoons.

Payesha demonstrated by tearing off a piece of bread and dipping it into the curry, lifting a piece of chicken with it. She then dipped it into the curd, and held it expectantly in front of Glorfindel's mouth. Hesitantly, he opened his mouth and Payesha placed the little bundle of bread, meat, and curd on his tongue. She withdrew her fingers, and Glorfindel bit down into the morsel. A variety of spicy flavor danced across his tongue, and he smiled.

"It is nothing like the food of Rivendell, that is sure," he said, rolling up some vegetables in the bread and dabbing them in the curds."It is delicious, Payesha. Thank you."

Payesha beamed. "This is what real Haradrim food is like," she said. "Those soups you had before are only for the infirm. The chicken is the best, is it not?"

"It is," Glorfindel agreed. He motioned her to sit beside him. "You should eat, too. It seems dreadfully discourteous for me to sit while you wait."

"Oh, no-"

"Do it to please me, then, and naught else," Glorfindel smiled at her, and she relented with a sigh. The two quickly finished the meat, curd, bread, and vegetables with an appetite, and at last sat back, replete and content.

"What am I expected to do all day while I recover?" asked Glorfindel. "I do not want to be a burden, or you to have to come to see all is well every few hours."

"That was the task Anjana gave me. And she has awoken, none the worse for wear."

"That is wonderful!" he cried. "When did she regain consciousness?"

"According to the krigsherre, only a little while after you did."

"Did anyone say when I may get up?"

"The healers have said that...they wish you to remain here for at least four more months," said Payesha. Glorfindel's eyebrows shot up nearly to the edge of his hairline.

"Here! In bed, for four more months?"

"No, no, not here, not in bed," said Payesha, hastily amending her mistake. "They want you to remain in Harad so that they can make a full study of the poison and all its aftereffects, and make sure that there are no adverse consequences from the procedure. And..."

Glorfindel sensed that something was troubling her.

"What is it, Payesha?"

"How will you get back home?"

"Why, that is as simple as taking nuts from a mallorn," said Glorfindel. "I will go with one of the patrols to the border where I was found, and from there, I will be able to make my way back north to Imladris."

"It won't be safe," said Payesha. "Your own squadron must have gone back to your land without you."

"They have," he acknowledged somberly. "Several of my dear friends must think I am dead by now, or at least imprisoned by the orcs. Lindir and the twins would not have left my body if they had seen me fall-they must have thought I had managed to escape and gone back to the rest of our party only to find that I was not there. They would have probably have returned to the site of the battle to see if I lay among the fallen, but Lady Anjana would most likely have found me by then."

"Is there anyone back in your home who loves you enough to fade for you?" she asked.

"No," said Glorfindel, with a slight laugh. "If there were, I would have found some way to return to Rivendell, no matter how dire my own wounds might be. My friends must miss me dearly, though. I should return as soon as I can."

"You're not leaving until four months have passed," blurted Payesha. "I won't have it."

"Calm yourself, child," said Glorfindel, becoming alarmed. "What is the matter? If your healers, the ones who saved my life twice and gave me their blood to keep me alive, request my presence for four more months so they can study the poison's effect on them, I would not refuse them."

"Of course," she muttered. She then worked tense fingers into her hair, freeing it from the scarlet cloth she draped over it and combing through the braids, which she had pinned up in a tight knot to the top of her head. Glorfindel watched as she straightened the knee-length shining mass, and plucked something from the bedside table. He concealed it in his robe without Payesha noticing him.

"Am I allowed to get up from this accursed bed, though?" he asked.

"Yes, you are, as long as you take a draught to combat pain and dizziness. Now it comes to it, would you mind trying to stand now so that I can see how steady you are on your feet?"

"No, not at all." With all the grace of a dancer who had just tripped over his partner's foot, Glorfindel sat up straight, swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and stood up quickly. Payesha noted that he did not sway on his feet even for an instant.

"Can you walk?"

In answer, Glorfindel took several graceful, sweeping steps about the room, and then turned back to give her a saucy smirk; an expression that Payesha was rather unused to seeing on his usually cool and dispassionate face.

"Good. Is there any pain?"

Glorfindel tilted his head from side to side and shook it.

"No, not at all. There is some tenseness and pressure, but not much. Do you think I am well enough to leave my sickroom and walk about again?"

Payesha snickered. "Definitely. And it's a good thing, because there's a festival tonight, and I fully expect you to be there, healthy and as much of a fool as men usually are at parties.

Glorfindel arched one elegant eyebrow at her. Payesha noticed that it seemed slightly different in shape than it had been before Glorfindel had been poisoned the previous week.

"I have never been drunk, and neither do I intend to be. I am no man, and elves do not get drunk."

Payesha looked shocked.

"That was _not _what I meant," she said, answering in a low hiss, as if she were afraid that someone was crouched outside the door, listening to their conversation. "I meant enjoy yourself. Meet people. Try new foods. Maybe even dance a little if you feel up to it...no, actually, I wouldn't advise that at all."

"All right. I will do as you wish. And Payesha-" Out of his robe, he pulled the object he had concealed there earlier: a little gold pin, which had at one end a cluster of gems in the shape of a flower. The bar was delicately curved, and as the stem of the jeweled flower, bore tiny leaves of gleaming green enamel. The flower's petals were made of orange and pale blue sapphires. Glorfindel placed the delicate hairpin into Payesha's hand, and raised amused eyes to her thunderstruck face. "A pin to match your gown for tonight's festival."

"What?" spluttered Payesha. Glorfindel was hard-pressed to restrain a chuckle; in the half-hour that Payesha had been gone, her two friends, Ninitha and Khala, had entered the room with a little silk package.

_"My lady...my lady," Glorfindel said, inclining his head to the both of them. "To what do I owe this very great pleasure?"_

_"Oh, drop the formalities," said Khala in impatient, accented Westron. "There is going to be a mela-a festival-tonight, and you have to be there."_

_"If I am considered well enough by the healers, I will certainly follow your wishes, my Lady."_

_"You will be. Don't worry. Where's Yesha?" asked Ninitha._

_"She went out just now to bring food."_

_"Good, she won't be back for a while, then," muttered Khala. _

_"I do not understand. What do you want of me while Payesha is absent?" Glorfindel asked, begining to feel slightly worried._

_"Give her this," said Khala, pulling a red silk packet out of a bag and handing it to Glorfindel. He opened the little bag and drew out an exquisite hairpin, glittering with blue and orange sapphires. "It's to match the dress she's wearing to the festival tonight. A beautiful blue and orange silk robe"_

_"Why do you not give it to her yourself?" he asked, puzzled. _

_"You'll see," she said, giving him a grin that definitely increased his disquiet. "Don't tell her it was us, though."_

"You are wearing a similar dress to the festivities tonight, are you not? Blue and orange silk, if I remember correctly?"

Payesha's jaw dropped. "How did you-"

Glorfindel nodded, keeping back the smile that threatened to burst forth at the sight of poor Payesha's befuddled face. He nodded to her and swept from the room.

"I am off to find something suitable to wear, my Lady. I trust I shall see you at the festivities tonight-with the new dress and the hairpin."

She looked after his retreating form, and then looked at the lovely jewel she held in her palm.

"That elf," she murmured with a shake of her head and an affectionate smile.

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><p>What's going to come of Glory having elven blood? And what exactly are Ninitha and Khala's intentions? Giving Glorfindel an expensive ornament and telling him to act like he got it for our beloved Haradrim priestess? I think these two fangirls have already started shipping. :P Come on, you can jump on the bandwagon too! And don't forget to review! (That rhymes.) :D<p>

I gave you a fast update this time to make up for the 22 day gap with no updates...so you get an extra special treat after the long wait. Next Chapter: THE PARTY!

Review Responses:

horseyyay: Oh I'm so glad youre back, I missed you :D The twins are fine, babbling as usual. Haha.

SilverMoonrise: Hope you like this. :D

Love you all! :) REVIEW! It makes me feel so much better after working long hours and taking care of sick babies and cooking and cleaning and otherwise making sure vic doesn't burn the house down :( He does his best, but...he's a guy. You know what I mean xP


	8. O Beloved

Hey! Yet another quick update :D

Enjoying Sunday while writing, ha, it's evening and the babies are sleeping and Vic is making pot roast (mouth waters) yum.

For a look at Payesha's party dress, follow this link. Just remove the spaces! www. a1designerwear content/images/thumbs/0023339 _appealing-blue-and-orange-lehenga-saree. jpeg

To see the jeweled hairpin, follow this link. img0. etsystatic 039/0/5982442/il_ 340x270.654171988_ sih6. jpg

Khala's dress: bridesbypb wp-content/uploads/2012/11/bridal-lehenga-red-gold- .jpg

Ninitha's dress: www. chennaistore image/cache/data/bottle-green-net-wedding-salwar-kameez- 800x1100. jpg

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><p>Payesha was sitting in her room, staring at the gleaming folds of the silk gown she had bought four days ago. Khala and Ninitha were in her room as well, getting ready with her. Both were already dressed in their own gowns. Khala, who was engaged to Garaam (the boy whom Payesha had overdosed a month previously) wore a red fitted blouse embroidered with gold thread. Her skirt flowed out freely from her hips, and over her hair she wore a netlike golden and red shawl, through which her heavy knot of black hair was clearly visible. Unlike Payesha's dress, Khala's concealed the midriff, as girls were not supposed to bare their waists once they were engaged. Ninitha, who was neither engaged nor married, was dressed in a green gown. A stark contrast to both Payesha's and Khala's dresses, Ninitha's stopped at mid-calf, as she was just seventeen and a half, and not yet old enough to wear a dress which brushed the floor. The long sleeves were embroidered with gold and silver thread, and the delicate stitching continued over Ninitha's breast, down to her ribs just above her waist. Then, a smooth expanse of glimmering green silk hung to her knees, where the cloth morphed into alternating bands of gold and silver satin. Beneath the dress, Ninitha wore fitted emerald trousers and sandals studded with imitation tourmalines. Payesha and Khala both would have adored this dress, but for one fact; Ninitha's back was bared to the point where the embroidery blended into the green cloth.<p>

"It isn't decent," said Khala, looking in the mirror as she adjusted her red earrings.

"I have a shawl," said Ninitha, energetically waving an emerald silk scarf with one hand. "And anyway, aren't you always going on about how I need a husband? I'm glorious tonight, and just watch, I'll come back with a good boy by the end of the evening."

"Payesha, you're not even dressed yet," chided Khala, noticing that her younger friend had not even moved to put on her robe.

"Yes, I'm coming," said Payesha, quickly putting on the dress and fixing the hairpin on her bun. Seeing that Khala and Ninitha were already halfway out the door, she grabbed her jeweled earrings, intending to put them on as they walked.

* * *

><p>Glorfindel was waiting in the entrance hall for Payesha.<p>

She had promised to be there to meet him by an hour after sundown, but an hour had nearly passed since sunset and she had not come down the stairs. Servants, court ladies, lords, and even the king and queen had streamed by him, yet still no trio of young, fresh-faced girls had passed by. Everyone was decked in finery far more vibrant than anything he had ever seen in Rivendell, and he wondered if his wine-colored fitted pants and long, heavy, cream-colored silk tunic were too plain; his tunic was nearly free from embroidery, unlike many of the others' clothes. However, all the passersby had smiled and bowed to him without exception as they went by, and Glorfindel concluded that he must not look too out of place in the clothes, which a kindly member of Lashanth's council had lent him. They fit well, and as he was about to mount the steps to look for Payesha himself, a sound of feminine laughter broke upon his ear. He looked up to see three young women coming down the stairs.

The first was Khala, dressed in red and gold satin which clung to her body and rippled about her legs as she walked. Second came Ninitha, the youngest of the three, adorned by a bottle-green dress and a lively spring in her step. A few paces behind was Payesha. At the sight of her, Glorfindel breathed out in relief.

"I was beginning to think you would never come at all," he said. Then, as the light of a flaming sconce fell upon her, Glorfindel felt his breath catch in his throat.

Payesha was dressed in a floor-length gown of blue and orange silk. The low neckline revealed her smooth collarbones, but covered her bosom completely. Her bodice was embroidered with orange and golden flowers, hanging on silver vines upon the royal blue fabric. Her closely-fitting blouse (to Glorfindel's surprise and slight discomfort) stopped four inches below the curve of her breast, baring her waist and stomach entirely. A sheer cloth of orange gauze fell gracefully from her right shoulder to her left hip, partly veiling the skin unclothed by the blouse and skirt, but leaving more uncovered than it hid. It waved gently about the burnished copper-colored flesh, fluttering slightly with every breath she took. The cloth fell in an elegant loop past Payesha's thighs, and was then tucked gracefully back, securing it firmly. The skirt, which sat just below her waist, was undecorated until it reached her knees, where festoons of embroidered orange flowers fell in cheerful sprays to her feet, which were bare.

Her face was flushed and smiling, and two dark wings of kohl framed her wide, pitch-colored eyes. Her mouth, though uncolored, was as vibrant in color as the jewels hanging from her ears. Tucked into her hair, which was pinned up in a knot, was the hairpin Glorfindel had given her that very afternoon.

"You're beautiful, Payesha," he finally managed to say, tearing his eyes away from her face. He then twisted his face into his signature frown and Payesha resisted a laugh with difficulty. She thought it odd that even on that night, Glorfindel could find something to make faces about.

"What's the matter?"

"You're not fully dressed. I fear you may have forgotten some part of your garments in your chambers." Glorfindel was flushed, and he averted his gaze away from Payesha's midriff.

"No, I'm not," she said, puzzled. Then she realized. "Oh! It's simply a style of gown which untied girls of marriageable age wear in Harad. Didn't you see at least twenty dressed so pass by? Khala's dressed differently because she's getting married in a few weeks, and Ninitha's dress is short because she's still too young to marry."

"Ah." Glorfindel quickly untucked the orange gauze from Payesha's waist, much to her blushing surprise and the amusement of other two girls, who waggled their eyebrows at Payesha. However, their grins fell away when they saw that Glorfindel had wrapped the cloth tightly around Payesha's back and stomach and then tucked it in again, so that no skin was visible. "There. Now you are decent."

"That...isn't how it's supposed to be worn, though," said Payesha. "There are a hundred other girls out there on the sands dressed so."

"You will keep this, though, won't you?" he asked, indicating his alteration to her gown. "To please me, if naught else."

"Oh, all right," she said, starting down the stairs again. Glorfindel held out an arm to her, and she paused. "Why, what's this?"

"My Lady Payesha Sainath," he intoned softly, seeing with an oddly pleasant feeling the color mounting in Payesha's lips and cheeks. "Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the mela?"

"Yes," she answered, too startled by the look in his eyes to do more than whisper. When both had looked away from the face of the other, they noticed that Ninitha and Khala had rushed down the stairs and had disappeared out into the night, leaving Payesha and Glorfindel alone on the steps.

"Shall we go?" he murmured.

Payesha nodded, unable to speak. And so, hand in hand, they walked slowly to the doors and out into the flurry of food, festivity, and dancing that awaited outside.

* * *

><p>Out on the sands, several tents had been set up. In one group, the appetizing scents of food blew forth. In another, children were playing, watched over by older siblings while their parents joined the feasting. Payesha, still holding Glorfindel's hand, began tugging him over to the food tents.<p>

As they entered, Glorfindel was nearly blinded by the colors that assailed his eyes at once. Women and men both were dressed in jewel-like hues, and the food was nearly as colorful. Payesha led him to the tables laden with food. Glorfindel noted with interest a platter of some kind of large, oblong grain. Within it, pieces of chicken were visible, along with a type of shriveled berry and a strange sickle-shaped nut.

"What's that?" he asked. Payesha looked over to the dish he was indicating.

"That? Rice."

"And the fruit in it?" Glorfindel put one in his mouth.

"That's a raisin."

"Ah...what's a raisin?"

"A dried grape." Glorfindel swallowed the raisin, rather shocked. He was about to help himself to some of the rice when he noticed Payesha heading to another platter, where there was more rice. However, this rice was bright yellow, and was strewn with seafood and sliced tomatoes. Payesha was dishing out a general serving of it. He abandoned te paler rice and trudged over to her side.

"What's this?"

"This is called Masabhath. Rice with tomatoes and seafood."

"Is it good?"

Payesha laughed. "The best. Do you want some?"

"Yes, I do."

Once they had filled their plates, they wandered out to the sands where people were dancing. Under a palm, a young man and woman were singing together, and Payesha tugged on Glorfindel's wrist. They sat down together, side by side, and began to eat. Glorfindel noticed with surprise that although the day had been socrchingly hot, the sand was only comfortably warm.

"Payesha-"

"Sh!" said Payesha, flapping her hand at him as she put a strange, curled-up little sea animal in her mouth. Glorfindel tried one himself, and decided that it was more succulent than its odd shape made it seem it would. "I want to listen."

"What is he saying?" whispered Glorfindel.

"Hush. You won't need to understand this to feel it." Glorfindel nodded solemnly. As a child, he had been told the same thing about Sindarin.

The young man was singing with an intense, grieving passion in his voice, and though Glorfindel could hardly understand a word of it, he found himself drawn into the lilt and the rhythm of the song.

"_O re piya haye.._

_O re piya haye.._  
><em>O re piya haye..<em>

_Udne laga kyon man baawla re_  
><em>Aaya kahan se yeh hosla re<em>  
><em>O re piya haye..<em>  
><em>O re piya haye..<em>

_Tanabana tanabana bunti hawaa haaye bunti hawa_  
><em>Boondein bhi to aaye nahi baaz yahan<em>

_Sagish mein shaamil sara jahan hai_  
><em>Har zare zare ki yeh iltiza hai<em>

_O re Piya_  
><em>O re Piya haye..<em>  
><em>O re piya haye..<em>  
><em>O re Piya."<em>

The young woman began to dance, and the song picked up its pace.

"_Nazrein bolen duniya bole_

_dil ki zaban haaye dil ki zubaan_  
><em>Ishq maange ishq chahe koi toofan<em>

_Chalna aahiste ishq naya hai_  
><em>Pehla yeh vada humne kiya hai<em>

_O re piya haye.._  
><em>O re piya haye..<em>  
><em>Nange pairo pe angaro <em>_chalti rahi haaye chalti rahi_

_Lagta hai ke gairo mein __Palti rahi haaye_  
><em>le chal wahan jo <em>_Mulk tera hai_  
><em>Jahil zamana <em>_dushman mera hai_

_O re piya haye.._

_O re piya haye.._  
><em>O re piya haye..<em>  
><em>O re piya haye.."<em>

Glorfindel looked over to Payesha, who was giving the singer her rapt attention. "May I trouble you to translate it for me, Payesha?"

Payesha nodded, and began to speak softly, her eyes never leaving the singing couple.

"Oh, beloved...Oh, why did my crazy soul begin to fly? Oh, where did this courage come from? The breeze teases and taunts me, oh, the breeze plays havoc with me. Even the raindrops won't shower here again. Your whole existence is part of intrigue. Still I hold on to hope, and kindle the embers, O beloved. Our glances are telling, the world knows. The story of my heart, oh, the story of my heart. Love prays, love wishes for a hurricane to stir the life within. A story of love, a feeling till now unknown to me slowly walks in. The first tender promise you gave was to be forever as one. O Beloved, Beneath my bare feet is a path of burning coal. All my life I have lived a stranger among strangers. Take me to the place you call home, for this ignorant world wishes to be my enemy, o Beloved."

"That is beautiful," Glorfindel breathed. And it was. The words had not the delicacy and reserve that filled the words of Sindarin, but were throbbing, moving, willing, even alive. Out in the pulsing night, he felt as if he had placed his lips on the pulse of life and found his own score of vitality.

And as a tear dropped from Payesha's eye onto her cheek, Glorfindel felt an aching meaning in the music he could not comprehend-and all of it seemed to center upon the warm, breathing, mortal girl who sat by his side.

* * *

><p>And the Glorfindelmance commences. Sneaky girls for giving him the pin! Don't forget to review! Ok, so you guys got 3 chaps in a time where you would have ordinarily got 2, so consider yourselves caught up. And check out the links. The dresses are like indian-style and rly pretty :3<p>

Finished pot roast! (SOOOO GOOOOOOD)

I should make Vic cook more. LOLZ!


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